Embers Drive
by JustAnotherPseudonym
Summary: DEVIL WEARS PRADA MOVIE, A series of stories that explore the lines of love, marriage, and betrayal. Femslash
1. Burning House

**I don't own The Devil Wears Prada**

"Andrea clearly doesn't understand what she's talking about."

"Well, Senator," The host intervened on Andy's behalf. "A few million people are bothering to read what she has to say on a daily basis. She must know something."

"Thanks, Bill," Andy spoke up. "But, honestly it doesn't matter what Senator Graham thinks or what you think, for that matter. Facts are facts and Boys," she smirked, "the facts are on my side."

"I think I've just been upstaged on my own show," Bill joked as he turned to look back into the camera. "That's all the time we have for this week. Don't forget to pick up Andrea Sach's new book; _War is not a Fashion Accessory_." The audience clapped and then the lights lowered and it was all over.

"Do you want to grab a drink later?" Bill asked Andy as her microphone was being removed.

"I can't," Andy slowly stood up. "Miranda is waiting for me."

"Invite her along," Bill offered. "I'd love to see her when she's had one too many."

Andy rolled her eyes. "No, I don't think you would."

"Fair enough." Bill loosened his tie. "Another time then. You did great today."

"Thanks," Andy waved as she walked away from the stage. She stopped in the dressing room she had been given, gathered up her things, and then walked out of the studio where a limousine had been waiting for her. She had packed her schedule too tightly, and knew that it was entirely possible she'd be a little late to the dinner she was supposed to be attending with her wife.

They had hardly seen each other in the last two months. Their schedules just hadn't allowed it. Andy had been off promoting her new book and Miranda was dealing with the Paris fashion week. The dinner would be the first time Andy had seen Miranda in almost two weeks, and knew that despite her fatigue and need for rest, there was no way she could cancel on Miranda now.

It was an important dinner where Miranda would parade them around from one important business associate to the next, working the room like the very pro that she was. It would be a late night, and by the end of it, Andy wasn't sure she'd still be standing, but she would have at least showed up.

The limousine stopped outside of the hotel where the dinner was being held, and Andy forced herself to step out of it. Some paparazzi were gathered outside, but none of them seemed particularly interested in her. Andy wasn't sensationalistic enough for them. Honestly, most of them found her boring since she reported _real_ news and her relationship with Miranda was often toted as being coldly affectionate.

Andy entered the party, already in progress. She looked around seeking out her white haired spouse amongst the crowd of people. She spotted Miranda speaking to the Turkish ambassador. Andy chuckled as she watched Miranda charm the man in front of her, though Andy was sure Miranda probably knew very little about the ambassador and most likely cared very little about expanding her knowledge now.

Andy expertly moved through the room until she was standing next to Miranda. She kindly interrupted Miranda's conversation with the diplomat and greeted her wife with a light kiss on the cheek, being careful not to transfer her lipstick onto Miranda's flawless skin.

"You're late," Miranda said as they pulled apart.

"I take it you didn't watch the show," Andy reached out to the nearest tray passing her by and pulled a glass of champagne off of it.

Miranda raised her brow. "You always think you know everything."

"Am I wrong?" Andy asked and then took a sip from her glass.

"I'll watch it later." Miranda stepped away from Andy.

With a self-satisfied smile, Andy wrapped her left arm around Miranda's waist and let her wife lead her around the room from one person to the next. She entertained questions about her new book, and about the current political climate. She even managed to get into an absurdly civil conversation about the ACLU which Miranda had immediately excused herself from the moment the topic had come up.

It had been a long night, and Andy was happy to escape it as she stepped out onto the balcony using a key she had stolen from one of the hotel's staff. She walked up to the railing and then leaned against it. She closed her eyes instead of keeping them open to admire the New York skyline that was spread out before her. It wasn't quite as wondrous for her as it had been all those short years ago when she had first moved to New York and first started to attend all these fancy parties with one of the most powerful women in the city.

Andy no longer felt like pinching herself to see if she was awake and not just living her life in a coma induced fairytale. She had become used to the twists and turns her life had taken, and was even beginning to accept that she was well on her way to becoming more than Miranda Priestly's wife.

"Are you thinking of jumping off?" A voice asked from behind her.

Andy slowly opened her eyes, but didn't bother to turn around. "Not tonight," Andy released a heavy breath. "I'm supposed to do Randall's radio show in the morning."

"Ugh, aren't people tired of you yet?" The voice sounded disgusted. "Every time I turn around, there you are." Andy felt a body fall against the rail next to hers. "Are you sure you don't want to jump?"

Andy's eyes tracked over the body standing next to her. "I'm sorry to disappoint."

"Ah, well, another day then."

Andy closed her eyes again, glad that the warmth of the day had fallen into a cool night.

A hand brushed against her arm, pulling her away from her momentary chance at rest. "You look like hell, Andrea."

Andy looked over at the hand offering her an already lit cigarette. She thankfully took it. "Emily, please tell me what you really think." She said before she brought the cigarette to her lips.

"Now, now," Emily brushed her hair out of her face, 'there's no reason for me to be rude." She reached out and then took the cigarette away from Andy's lips. "I saw you on that god awful show this evening," she brought the cigarette to her own lips. "That Graham fellow is an idiot."

Andy shrugged. "I don't think he likes me."

A hint of a smile made an appearance across Emily's features. "You are still quite slow, Andrea."

"So," Andy blew out another long breath. "How has everything in New York been? I just got back this afternoon."

Emily released her own sigh. "Miranda is driving everyone crazy, as usual. She fired one of her assistants just this morning and I swear she's looking to fire someone else before the night is over."

Andy took the cigarette away from Emily's shaking fingers. "Are you afraid it's going to be you?"

Emily hollowly laughed. "I'm always afraid it's going to be me."

"You're the new Nigel, Em. Miranda wouldn't know what to do without you."

Emily narrowed her eyes. "Did she tell you that?"

"You know better than that. Miranda doesn't talk to me about _Runway_." She snorted. "She hardly talks to me about anything."

They finished smoking the cigarette and then looked out at the skyline together, neither particularly impressed by their view. They stood in silence for a while until Emily impulsively blurted out "I did miss you, you know?" Her voice finally lost the haughtiness it had carried all evening.

It was like a dam had been broken. Andy pushed herself up off the rail and straight into Emily's body. Their lips crashed together and their hands began to roam across each other's bodies. Emily pulled at Andy's clothes, pushing away anything that got in her way to touching Andy's skin. Though frantic, none of their movements were clumsy. Their bodies acted as if they had done all of it before.

Andy guided Emily up against the nearest wall. Her hands pushed up Emily's stylish black dress, and then toyed with Emily's desire until pushing into her. She remained in Emily's warmth even after she had sated Emily's desire to be touched and her own desire to touch. She had missed this, had missed it more than anything.

"We have to get back inside," Emily whispered into Andy's ear.

"Miranda will think I fell asleep in a corner," Andy argued. "I won't be missed."

Emily ran her fingers through Andy's damp hair. "But I will be."

Andy nodded once, and then gently pulled out of and then away from her lover. "Go," she whispered, "I want to stay out her a little longer."

Emily finished straightening her clothes, and then wrapped her arms around Andy's waist. "I love you, Andy."

"I love you too, Em."

The arms fell away from around her, Emily stepped away, and suddenly the dam was once again in place. "You owe me a cigarette."

Andy watched as Emily walked back to the party, and then straightened out her own clothes. She took another fifteen minutes to prepare herself to go back to the party. When she finally gathered herself up enough to enter back into Miranda's domain, her wife was still mingling amongst the commoners.

"Did you fall asleep somewhere?" Miranda asked as soon as Andy stepped up next to her.

"Let's go home," Andy placed a hand against Miranda's arm. "I'm dead on my feet."

Miranda nodded, and they quickly made another tour of the room before leaving. Andy rested her head against Miranda's shoulder as they were driven to their home.

"You should take better care of yourself, Andrea." Miranda whispered.

Andy yawned. "I should," she agreed. "But I'm trying to get famous."

Miranda rolled her eyes but leaned over and then kissed Andy softly on the forehead.

When they got home, they didn't make love, both were too exhausted for anything that strenuous. But, Andy did hold onto Miranda as her wife slept. She thought about how they had gotten together, and about how she had been so certain that all she wanted in life was to be Miranda Priestly's wife. After she had left _Runway_ she had begun to feel like a part of her soul was missing and had just naturally assumed that Miranda was that piece. She had done everything anyone had ever written down in a love story to try and gain Miranda's affections, and eventually it had all worked out.

Miranda had handed over her heart, and Andy was all too aware of the preciousness of the gift she had been given to even contemplate throwing it away. She had accomplished something that very few people had ever accomplished before, and she wasn't strong enough to tell Miranda to take her heart back. She didn't want to hurt Miranda like that, wouldn't hurt Miranda like that.

She could never tell her wife that she had made a mistake. Andy couldn't bring herself to confess that the part of her soul that had been missing was the woman she now went around telling everyone was her best friend. She couldn't tell Miranda that she had somehow fucked it all up and gotten everything wrong. And, Emily wouldn't say anything either because they both knew that there was no undoing the mistakes they had both already made.

All they could do was continue to make the same mistakes, hoping that one day it would all somehow just come to an end. One way or another. Andy knew she was living in a house that was burning down, she just didn't know how to escape. She'd stay even if she was just waiting to be burned alive.


	2. Ashes to Ashes

**I Don't Own The Devil Wears Prada**

It was cliché how the days had turned into weeks, the weeks into months, the months into years, and the years into this moment. All those hours and minutes had been culminating so that she could be forced into living through this inevitability. She would have felt like she was surrounded by the surreal if it all didn't feel so heartbreakingly real.

"Do you want to talk about this?" She knew there had been risks in choosing this future, had seen them and ignored them. She cast them aside because she was determined to press forward in a life that had offered more happiness than pain. She just wished now that she could recall a single moment of happiness through all the levels of pain she was now suffering.

"Talk? About what exactly?" The end of a life worth living? The beginnings of another page of failure added to her already thick book of personal tragedy? What exactly could she say now?

"Don't do this." She hated being told what to do, especially hated to be told what to do by the one person she had so easily let have full control of her body. She had always thought she had denied access to her mind, but she realized she had never offered a defense.

"What is it, Andrea, that you want to happen?" Of course they had argued before. They had been together for too long to not have ever argued, but this was different. It had felt different from the moment Andrea had walked through the door.

"I do love you." It was a confession she could have gone without hearing. Love had never really been an issue. It was just the cherry topping to their chocolate sundae but had never been the ice cream.

"Do you know what happiness is, Andrea?"

She coldly watched as the woman seated across from her ran a frustrated hand through long brown hair. "I don't think that's a fair question, because I know there's only one correct answer." The hand fell down. "And stop calling me Andrea. You know how I hate that."

It was senseless to point out that Andrea hadn't always hated it. The hate had been newly required, sort of like the resentment that she forced herself to push down. "Fine then, Andy, I think my question was more than fair. I've more than earned the right to ask it."

"When did this happen?" Andrea jumped up from her seat, her hands flying around displaying her building anger. "I don't understand what's going on here."

"I have a point to make," she forced herself to stay calm, though her body wished to jump and her vocal cords were more than ready to yell. "So please, let me make it before you start acting out."

She could tell that Andrea was forcing a wave of calm to flow through her body. "Fine. Make your point."

She rolled her eyes, finding it ridiculous that she was being given permission for something she normally wouldn't have had to ask for. "My point, Andy, is that you have had happiness, bits of it at least."

"How do you know that?" It was an accusation, one she would ignore.

She cleared her throat. "You have had happiness," she repeated, "and I have not."

Andy's body collapsed into the chair she had so eagerly vacated. Her head dropped into her hands, her torso leaned forward. If this had been a battle, then a clear winner could rightfully be announced.

"Don't misunderstand me, I have been content. I have been, at moments, happy, but I don't know happiness, not like you do." Finally, she left the protection of her desk and walked towards her lover. She bent down, and grabbed onto Andrea's hand. "I've kept myself from it, hoping that we could be enough. I never ever imagined that I would want a home and marriage and children, but, my love, I do want those things and we both know I can't have them with you."

"You hate children."

She smiled, "I might not hate my own."

They both laughed, though the sound of it rang hollow throughout the office.

"So," both of their hands were now firmly entangled, their foreheads resting against the others, "do you honestly love him?"

Love? It was such a funny word, too small for all of its meanings. "As much as I can."

A nod, and then, "And if I said I'd leave Miranda?"

"It'd be a lie neither of us could afford to believe."

"Then, I want you to be happy."

Emily pulled away just enough to properly look into Andy's eyes. "Thank you," she whispered before she leaned forward and captured her lover's lips. After a long moment, she pulled away and asked, "Will you be with me, tonight?"

"Tomorrow is your wedding night, Em," Andrea needlessly pointed out.

"I told Raymond I wanted to follow tradition." Emily pushed her body closer to Andy's. "We won't see each other again until the ceremony."

Andy's hand cupped her love's face. "Miranda thinks I'll be talking you off the ledge all night. For some reason, she doesn't see you as the marrying kind."

Emily slowly stood up, pulling Andy up with her. "Then let's not waste tonight."

Andy nodded, and allowed herself to be pulled out of the office and towards Emily's bedroom. They slowly undressed each other like tonight would be their first and last night together. They came together like they were made for each other and like their love was easy. Their hands roamed across their bodies, exploring more than demanding some type of gratification.

They discovered all the pieces that made them whole, bringing out the parts that bound them together. Each and every kiss was like the very first, never meaning any less and never to be forgotten. Eventually, their bodies became entwined and were breaking with release. And afterwards, they stayed together in each other's arms, neither ever considering sleep.

Words kept them awake, telling stories about their childhoods and their naïve dreams. They talked about old pets and forgotten schoolyard crushes. They even shared their fears, and the haunting sense of inadequacy that rested within them both. They said whatever came to mind, because it was easy.

They didn't need a wedding ring, not with this love.

But the moment ended, like they knew it would. The final preparations for the wedding had to be made, and the day had to go on, because neither of them had the strength to stop it. Their love had always consumed them, had also always burned them and left nothing behind but the ashes of their dreams.

Emily walked down the aisle and Andy stood as her Matron of Honor. They happily celebrated and all of it was done under happy scrutiny of Miranda Priestly and Emily's new husband. Happiness was in the air, even though Emily felt like she was attending a funeral. But still, she raised her glass and drank her champagne. She thanked Andy for a beautiful speech and did her best to focus on achieving those moments of happiness that she was so sure were out there for her to grasp onto, but as she looked at Miranda and Andy sitting together, leaning towards each other as lovers do, she noticed something she hadn't before. She could see how fake Andy's joy really was. She could see the mountain of pain in eyes that falsely glistened with happiness.

Miranda's happiness was the only happiness that was real.

Emily turned to her husband, who was happily leading her across the dance floor. He whispered to her his love and she whispered it back. She now knew she was feeling the same glisten of happiness that Andy had for so many years enjoyed. It was the most painful thing she'd ever felt. It was awful, being loved and attached to someone that could never properly be loved back.


	3. Smoke Without Fire

**I don't own The Devil Wears Prada**

**Smoke Without Fire**

"You thought I didn't know."

She raised her brow, her eyes raking across the woman standing next to her. "I hoped you wouldn't find out." But, of course everything had been found out because secrets really weren't meant to be kept. They could be disguised, covered up and called something else, but were never completely hidden.

"How could I not?" The distance between them was closed, and loving arms wrapped around her. "It is my birthday after all."

"I should have never told Emily about it." Miranda leaned further into her wife. "She's horrible at keeping things from you." She wouldn't admit it, but at times she was still surprised with Andrea's and Emily's friendship. She had seen it forming all those short years ago, but she never believed it could ever be sustained. If she had to choose someone Andrea would have stayed friends with then she would have chosen Nigel, but once again Andrea had proven to be unpredictable.

"Don't blame her," Andrea replied. "She just wanted to make sure I was around to enjoy the party."

Work had recently had the nasty habit of pulling them apart. Andrea's birthday was the first occasion they had managed to celebrate together since Emily's wedding six months ago. That had been a truly odd experience for Miranda since she still wasn't completely comfortable in spending her free time with Emily. She felt it intruded on their pre-existing work dynamic, but she had swallowed her discomfort because she realized the importance Emily held in Andrea's life.

"Yet," Miranda turned around, "it is ironic that she could not attend herself."

Andrea shrugged. "She said she might stop by later. She had to do something with Raymond."

"Raymond?" Miranda rolled her eyes. "It's a wonder she's still married to him."

"Be nice," Andrea gently chided. "He's a nice guy."

"Nice and dull," Miranda muttered. "He's about as interesting as your father's stamp collection."

Andrea softly laughed. "Speaking of my father," she pulled their bodies closer together. "Thank you for flying my parents here for the party. Emily didn't tell me about that."

Miranda smirked. "Because she didn't know about it."

Andrea brushed her lips against Miranda's, and Miranda fell into the kiss, not caring that they were within viewing range of their guests. Miranda rationalized that this was their home, and if they wanted to make out like a pair of teenagers then she felt that was their right. But, then she remembered Andrea's parents were also present and she pulled away from her wife.

"We should go to bed," Andrea whispered.

"The party has hardly even begun, Andrea. If we go to bed now then everyone here will know what it is we're going to bed to do."

"Let them be jealous," Andrea murmured as she began kissing Miranda's neck.

"Your mother will start looking at me again like she wants nothing more than to skin me alive," Miranda said, but didn't pull away. She knew there was no way they could slip away unnoticed, and she only cared about possible consequences because of Andrea's parents. It had taken time for them to get used to her place in their daughter's life, and was aware of the stress the friction of their disapproval caused Andrea, but if Andrea could forget about it then she supposed she could as well. She rolled her eyes and then took her wife's hand and led her away from the party towards their bedroom upstairs.

Andrea willingly followed, and even remembered to lock the door before she pushed Miranda up against it, attacking Miranda's mouth and then lowering herself to her knees and pushing up Miranda's skirt as if she were a person suffering from famine just about to get their first meal. Miranda clasped one hand in Andrea's short hair and clamped the other against the door in hopes of keeping her balance.

She was able to manage two quick intakes of breath before releasing a heavy moan as her body collapsed from the frantic pleasure filled onslaught. Andrea caught her, and slowly worked herself back up Miranda's body. "Repay me in the shower," she said before she guided Miranda towards the master bath.

When they returned to the party less than an hour later, the crowd hadn't thinned at all. If anything, more people had shown up and most of the guests didn't seem concerned that the guest of honor had slipped away for a time. Andrea's parents did approach them as they reentered the party, saying nothing about their changed clothes or freshly showered appearance. "It's wonderful what you've done here, Miranda," Andrea's father complimented. "We had no idea Andrea knew this many people."

They shared a laugh, and then Andrea looked around and replied, "I'm not sure I do know all of them."

Miranda pulled Andrea over for another short kiss before they separated and got lost in the crowd of people that had filled the first floor of their home. Two hours went by before Miranda was even able to lay her eyes on her wife again. She was taking a break from the mass of bodies that had invaded her home and so chose to escape to the balcony in her office. When she looked down she saw her wife off in a dark corner of their small garden sitting on one of the benches near the overpriced fountain Andrea had insisted on buying.

Emily was sitting with her, and they were leaning against each other looking at what seemed to be nothing in particular. They weren't talking. They weren't facing each other. They really weren't doing much of anything at all. This wasn't even the first time Miranda had seen the two of them sitting like that, doing what amounted to absolutely nothing.

But…she hated catching them in moments like this. It always made her feel like there was something between them that she could not compete against. What that something was, she had no idea. It was just something she had learned to dislike, because their nothing seemed to be a lot of something. Andrea always seemed completely content in these nothing moments, and Miranda was more than aware that she only ever looked that way while sitting silently with Emily.

Miranda turned away from them, and walked back into her office. She wasn't keen on intruding on their mindless, motionless staring. If she wasn't so sure of Andrea's absolute fidelity and Emily's paralyzing fear of her, she would have long ago suspected the two of them were carrying on a sexual relationship, but she didn't worry. She trusted her wife and she even grudgingly trusted Emily.

Miranda knew that her marriage was strong. Andrea still found her physically attractive. They still engaged in wonderful conversation. They were still in love, and were making a marriage work that was at times very difficult to tend to because of their individual schedules. They were both determined on making their marriage forever permanent. So, she knew there was nothing to worry about. There never would be. It was pointless to be afraid of something that she couldn't even give a name.

She had tried talking to Andrea about the odd connection she saw between Emily and her, and though she had expected Andrea to immediately become defensive and deny any connection to Emily at all, Andrea had surprised her. She had willingly explained that she and Emily had an understanding between them. There was love between them, an emotional connection, and that they were best friends. That was all there was to it, and though Miranda could be possessive she knew it was unrealistic to demand she be the only one Andrea have any emotional attachment to at all. She didn't even know how to articulate an absurd demand like that when she still held attachments to her ex-husbands and past lovers.

"I guess my idea to break away from the crowd isn't as unique as I first thought it would be." Raymond chuckled as he ran into Miranda as she stepped out of her office.

"Oh," Miranda stepped away from him. "Yes. I wasn't expecting quite so many guests."

"Andy's really popular. Everyone seems to genuinely like her. Everyone seems to have an anecdote about her."

Miranda didn't reply, not sure what Raymond expected her to say. She knew he couldn't expect her to disagree with him and begin to disparage her wife. He cleared his throat, looked around nervously, and then muttered, "It's surprising, you know. I know coming to the party was important to Emily, but she never talks to me about how important Andy is to her. She doesn't talk to me about her at all, really." He shrugged. "It's just weird."

"You saw them sitting in the garden," Miranda knowingly stated.

Raymond nodded. "I don't get it. They seem so close, but," he sighed. "I don't get it."

She supposed, she really didn't get it either. "There's nothing to get, Raymond."

"Ray," Emily's husband hurried to say before Miranda could say anything else. "Call me Ray."

She ignored him. "They are best friends."

He sighed again. "I guess. I'm just new at this marriage thing, and Emily has been great but she can be a little distant sometimes." He let out a self-deprecating laugh. "I don't always understand her, but I guess it's easier for you and Andy. What with you both being women and all."

Miranda had chosen to be on her utmost best behavior, but her patience for this conversation had run out long before it had even begun. "You are an idiot, aren't you?"

Raymond chuckled. "I don't know why Emily is so terrified of you. You're funny."

Miranda shook her head. "Shall we return to the party and rejoin our wives?"

"Of course." Raymond stepped aside, motioning for Miranda to step ahead of him. They walked back to the party, quickly spotting Emily and Andrea in the middle of the crowd that seemed to finally be lessening. Miranda stepped up next to Andrea, and slipped an arm around her waist. Raymond mirrored her actions with Emily and seemed blissfully ignorant of the look his wife tossed his way when he pulled her closer to his body.

Miranda smirked upon seeing it, understanding Emily's discomfort. It had taken her years to grow completely accustomed to showing public affection for her spouse. It wasn't something she had done very often in any of her other relationships, but now found it something she did quite constantly.

"Here," Andrea offered Miranda her glass. "You should try this. It's a coconut something."

Miranda looked down at the beverage being offered, her eyes immediately catching sight of the new ring adoring the ring finger on her wife's right hand. "That's new," she casually mentioned as she took the glass from Andrea's grasp.

"It's Emily's birthday present to me," Andrea explained. "She tells me it's my birth stone."

"It's a bit smaller than I had intended for it to be," Emily said having managed to quietly step out of her husband's hold. "Andrea seems to have put on some unfortunate weight."

"I'm glad I can always count on your brutal honestly, Em." Andrea flippantly replied.

"Don't mention it," Emily said with a smile.

Miranda took another look at the ring, knowing full well it wasn't a cheap piece of jewelry given without any thought. Emily most likely got the size wrong, because Andrea hadn't gained any weight at all. If anything, she had been losing weight. Still, it was a sickeningly lovely ring, and was a blissful reminder to Miranda that she had nothing at all to be worried about. She knew, without question knew, that where there was smoke, there was not always fire.


	4. Burn Ban in Effect

**I don't own The Devil Wears Prada**

They met up in London. Emily took time off from work and left her husband in New York, and Andy chose to end her book tour in London so that she could spend some uninterrupted time with Emily. She would meet up with her stepdaughters and wife later in the summer, but this trip was not about her family. It was early July and Andy and Emily had plans to spend time watching Wimbledon and running around town as if they weren't actually married to other people.

Andy had told Miranda about her plans to spend time with Emily, and Emily had notified Raymond of her intent to spend part of her holiday with Andy. Miranda knew Andy and Emily would be in London at the same time, and Raymond was intelligent enough to find out about it if he just bothered to read the news or watch television. There was no point in lying about what they would do. There was nothing inherently suspicious about two friends taking a vacation together.

If Raymond felt badly about his wife abandoning him and instead bringing her best friend with her to spend time at her family's home then he said nothing about it. He was intent on following Miranda's lead and felt that if Miranda was okay with it then he should be as well. He had to trust that it was normal for Emily to go off to London to spend time with her best friend though they only lived less than ten miles apart in New York, and could spend as much time together as they liked within country.

Emily accompanied Andy to the various media interviews she had been scheduled for, and Andy spent time with Emily and her family. They shared a hotel suite and made a home together in it. They didn't talk about their spouses or the lives that they would have to return to. Their only focus was on each other.

The whole experience was wonderful, but it was risky, shamefully risky. Andy was just famous enough to be recognized and Emily was peripherally famous for her own contributions to the world of fashion. Paparazzi weren't following them around or anything as absurd as that; they weren't that interesting, but they were known. They shouldn't have been leaning into each other in public, holding hands, whispering intimately in each other's ears, or making out in the dark corners of world famous boutiques, because it was entirely possible that they would be noticed and that rumors would start.

But, if they didn't take the risks then they would never be together. Being together had always been risky, and that was just a fact they had chosen to live with. There would always be a chance they would be found out. They each accepted that and knowingly chose to go to places where they could be recognized.

They simply remained focused on enjoying their week together, and lived in a bubble until their last night together crept up on them. Emily went with Andy to the taping of another political talk show appearance, and then they had a romantic dinner at a small out of the way restaurant Emily had discovered in her youth. They fed each other off of their own plates and drank too much wine, and the more they drank the quieter Emily got. The less they laughed and the more reality began to intrude on the life they had created.

Eventually, they decided to return to the hotel, cancelling their plans to meet up with a couple they had met on their first night together when they had gone out to a bar. The couple thought that they were married, and weren't interested enough in American politics or fashion to recognize either of them. They reinforced the illusion Andy and Emily had created but could not sustain.

"You're starting to depress me," Andy said as she slid the access key into their hotel room's door.

"We've got to end this, don't we?" Emily asked, stepping past her lover so that she could enter their room.

"What do you mean?" Andy softly shut the door behind them and then threw her purse on the overpriced couch in the overpriced suite they had rented, knowing full well that a conversation had been brewing between them ever since they had laid eyes on each other in London and that it was finally being unleashed.

"Let's face it, Love, we can't do this forever."

Andy took a seat, knowing it was in her best interest to do so. "No, but I never thought either of us intended to do it forever."

Emily sat down next to Andy, deciding to be close to her lover though they were creating a necessary gap between them. "I'm tired of breaking your heart, and quite honestly I'm tired of you breaking mine."

"We've done this before," Andy needlessly pointed out. Their most recent breakup had been immediately after Emily's wedding. They had intended on just remaining friends, and had done a good job of it until Emily had shown up at Andy's birthday party with a ring as a gift. The whole London trip had really been sort of their honeymoon. Andy knew she should have expected it to be their divorce as well. "I don't see the point in doing it again."

"No," Emily conceded, "there's no point." She took a deep intake of breath, not bothering to release it until finally admitting what she had been silently holding onto ever since her plane had landed. "I'm moving back to London."

"Because of your father?" Andy tucked her arm around Emily drawing them closer together. She had always known there was a chance Emily would finally decide to move half way across the world to get away from her.

"Partly." The man had been on the verge of death for the last year but stubbornly refused to die. Though, it was obvious from their most recent visit that he was beginning to lose his battle.

"And Raymond?" He was head over heels in love with Emily and Andy knew he would follow her to the ends of the world, but that didn't mean Emily wanted him to. Their marriage was new and could easily be broken even if Andy doubted a simple word from her could still break it. Emily probably hadn't intended for it happen, but Andy noticed that her lover had begun to rely more and more on Raymond. He was slowly but surely replacing her, and she hated him for it.

"He'll move with me of course." Emily wiped at her face, brushing away tears that hadn't even fallen. "I'll be transferring to_ British Runway_."

Andy stiffened. "Miranda knew about this?"

"Of course she knew," Emily looked into Andy's eyes. "She actually suggested it when I told her about my father. She said it could be a temporary move, if I wished it to be."

It was an uncharacteristic gesture from Miranda to be sure, but Emily hadn't doubted her motives. They had spent time together over the years, and Emily knew Miranda, on some level, actually cared for her. They weren't friends but they did have a sort of acquaintanceship that made them more than just coworkers.

"She didn't tell me about it." Andy pulled away from Emily. "She intentionally didn't tell me about it."

"Well it's not really her thing to tell, is it?" Emily gave up on sitting and stood again. She crossed the room, instantly surrendering to the fact that they would be ending their night with a fight, but she supposed it was better that they fought. Fighting was less heartbreaking than making love, once again like it would be their last time.

"She still should have told me." Andy brushed her hair out of her face. "Hell, you should have told me."

"I am telling you." Emily defended herself.

"It's our last night together." Andy stood as well, no longer comfortable with being the only one calmly sitting. She felt the need to move around, since she knew anything she said wouldn't change any of Emily's decisions. She never did have that power. She couldn't stop Emily from staying at _Runway_, couldn't stop her from getting married, and there was no way she could stop her lover from moving to London.

"It's the appropriate time to tell you, then," Emily snottily replied suddenly becoming the woman who haughtily walked down the hallways of _Runway_.

"Then I suppose it's just as appropriate to tell you now that Miranda and I want to have a child." Andy spitefully confessed.

Emily narrowed her eyes. "Then congratulations. You'll make an excellent mother. You're already fantastic with the girls."

Andy stumbled. "That's not what you're supposed to say."

Emily sighed and then crossed her arms in front of her. "Tell me, Andy, what am I supposed to say?"

"I thought we were fighting," Andy childishly admitted. "You're supposed to say something degrading."

"Yes well," Emily dropped her arms and eased her tense stance. "I've decided I don't want to fight."

Andy looked down at her right hand, where she was still wearing Emily's ring. "You still want me to wear this?" She let the fight go, not really wanting to participate in it either. She simply didn't have the energy anymore.

Emily closed the distance between them. She grabbed onto Andy's hand, and ran her thumb across the ring she had had custom made for her lover. She had labored over every single detail, not caring what it costs to make it perfect. She had even bothered to risk getting it engraved with the words, "partner in crime". It was a simple phrase that Miranda could read and not instantly doubt.

"I don't know," Emily didn't hesitate in voicing her uncertainty. Despite all the care she put into getting the ring, she had known that it was ultimately a bad idea. They couldn't actually carry on with a secret marriage, but for a moment after she had given Andy the ring, they had been able to live in a fairy tale. They had been able to carry it on in London, and Emily was able to bring Andy home to her family.

"Miranda would notice." And then Andy would have to explain why she had suddenly decided to take off the ring she hadn't taken off since Emily had given it to her.

Emily softly laughed. "And so would I." She didn't really want Andy to take it off, because it was the only thing that signified that their relationship was real or had even existed at all. They had always refrained from buying each other something that intimate.

"Then I won't take it off." It was an easy promise to make. She didn't want to take it off. The fairy tale obviously wasn't real, but she could at least look down at her ring and believe in that moment that it had been real. She could pretend that she had the life that she actually wanted instead of a marriage she had naively procured.

They stayed staring at each other, neither really having anything else to say. They had this same conversation at least a hundred times before. It always started and ended the same way. Their declarations would be made and then they would carry on with their individual lives as if there was some sort of burn ban in effect that they were supposed to wait out until it was safe for them to once again risk starting a fire. Neither of them brought up that the ban effects seemed to be growing longer and the time spent together shorter. They didn't mention that Emily had never actually bothered to move to a different country before or that Andy was making long term plans with her wife that she had kept from making for years.

So instead of ending the conversation properly and talking about all the things they needed to settle, they fell into bed together. They made love like it would once again be their last time. They told each other they loved each other, though neither of them was completely sure what the words meant anymore. And when the morning came, Emily gathered up her things and then left without saying goodbye while Andy took a shower.

After she left, she called Miranda and formally announced her wish to be transferred to the London office. If Miranda thought it odd that Emily was calling so early in the morning, she said nothing about it. She asked surprisingly few questions and simply stated that she would arrange everything. Emily ended the conversation with a mumbled thank you and then took off towards her family home where she could tend to her wounded heart, yet again.

And when Andy finally exited the shower and found her lover had slipped out into the early morning, she didn't try and bother to call her back. Instead, she called her wife and told her how much she missed and loved her. Miranda didn't mention Emily's call, and Andy didn't bring up any involvement her wife might have had in Emily's move to London. She just wanted to focus on loving Miranda more, now that she would be forcing herself into loving Emily less.


	5. Pyrotechnics

**I don't own The Devil Wears Prada**

As with many old friends who lose touch, Emily and Andy only seemed to find each other in times of extreme crisis or in moments of celebration. In the interim, they composed emails that were dull, unembellished testimonies to their lives. Long distance phone calls were avoided, not because of the costs, but because what could be said was already written down in an electronic message that was as impersonal as the screen showing it.

Apparently, running out of words wasn't impossible when small talk had been kept so small that the itinerary reports were more interesting than actual attempts at conversation. Yet still, they insisted on sending out the messages because no matter how mundane, they still offered connection. They became promises of longevity and determination, and were evidence to the fact that neither of them were trying to erase their history but were merely attempting to move past it.

_I think it's time I request an assistant, _Emily wrote, _or at least find an intern I can properly intimidate. Raymond is insisting I take maternity leave, so I can only hope making an effort to lessen my workload will be a fair enough compromise. He's being very irritating, but since this is our first child, I do find it in my heart to forgive his coddling. He has already proven to be an excellent parent, and I fear he will always outshine me in that regard._

_By the way, _she continued,_ my father has died, and my mother insists on holding the funeral as soon as possible .Your attendance is required. _Instead of signing with love, she didn't sign it at all. She sent the message knowing that since death was a form of crisis she would be seeing Andy very soon.

"I just got off the phone with your mother," Raymond announced as he shuffled into his wife's office, their newborn daughter held firmly in his arms.

"You did?" Emily closed her laptop, and then leaned back in her chair, her face giving way to no particular emotion at all.

"She told me about your father." He said the words plainly enough, but there was still a hint of judgment behind them. He didn't have to ask why Emily had chosen to run away to her office instead of coming to him when she had first come home. He knew she would have contacted Andy first. "I guess I should get the guestroom ready for Andy. Do you think Miranda will be joining her?"

It was hard for Emily to tell whether Raymond was offering his acceptance or just biting back his bitterness at the fact that he was once again coming in second place to Andrea Sachs. "I honestly don't know."

He nodded, and shifted their daughter in his arms, obviously unsure of what else he could say. He would offer his wife the opportunity to cry on his shoulder, but again he knew it was more likely she wouldn't shed a tear until Andy walked through their front door. "Your father was an interesting guy," he muttered. "I'll miss him." He crossed the distance that was left between them, and unexpectedly held their daughter out for Emily to take.

Automatically, Emily's arms reached out to take hold of the baby. She pulled her daughter in close to her body, and then looked down into the blue eyes that she knew were mirror images of her own. It was the only physical feature she thought they shared, because in every other way Olivia was exactly like her father. She had his caramel tinted skin, his dark hair, wide smile, and dimpled cheeks.

"I'll leave you two alone," Raymond whispered, not wanting to stomp onto the moment of peace that had fallen upon his wife as she held their daughter in her arms. He kissed Emily on the forehead, and as he pulled away reminded his wife that he was there for her if she needed him. He then walked out of the office, making sure to close the door behind him.

Emily watched him leave, part of her wanting to call him back, but she didn't know how to be vulnerable with him since she had so often sought Andy out for emotional support. "Your father is a good man," she told her daughter in a broken whisper. "We're both lucky to have him." She hadn't blindly decided to marry him, though more than one person inferred that she had. She knew what she was getting into, and knew Raymond was just the type of man she could spend her life with.

They had met when Emily was still running around New York as Miranda's first assistant. She had been getting Miranda's coffee and had been unlucky enough to spill the hot beverage on a complete stranger. He accepted her apologies, replaced the spilt coffee, and had helped her carry her load back to _Runway._ Emily had found him to be completely boring and borderline insufferable, but he was handsome and persistent. He made a point of hanging out at Starbucks just so he could buy Miranda's coffee and silently help Emily with the load she was expected to carry on her own.

Eventually, Emily grew accustomed to his presence, and when she had been promoted she gave him her phone number so that he could still be present even though she'd be making no more coffee runs on Miranda's behalf. He was the complete opposite of what she wanted in a partner. He wasn't suave or rich. His words often came out jumbled making him sound like a dunce, though he was actually incredibly intelligent. He was patient and, if Emily were completely honest, she'd say he reminded her of Andy when Andy had first walked through the doors of _Runway_.

Of course, there were noticeable differences. Raymond was a songwriter whose ambition was only to find a life he could be content with, while Andy's ambition forced her to work incredibly long hours in an attempt to accumulate enough power to affect change. Raymond's idea of changing the world came in the form of hanging out in coffee houses and performing spoken word poetry to a small group of people that he hoped would listen to his messages. He was okay with Emily making more money than him, and was even happy to stay at home with Olivia while Emily was out furthering her career.

And Andy, well she wouldn't have been okay with staying at home to care for a child while the big wide world was out there ready to be explored and discovered. Emily suspected that was the real reason why Miranda and Andy had never followed through with their plans to have a child. Neither of them was selfless enough to put aside their own agendas to focus on expanding their family. They had never been able to find the right time.

Emily ran the back of her hand down her daughter's cheek, realizing that she and Raymond hadn't really found the right time either. They hadn't talked about children and weren't focused on making a family. It had snuck up on them, and Emily hadn't wanted to turn her back on it. She doubted she would make a great mother, but she was certain that Raymond would make a great father and wouldn't deny him the opportunity to prove it.

Olivia had been conceived shortly after the week Emily had spent with Andy in London. Emily often laughed at the fact that if she had been carrying on an affair with a man, then she most likely wouldn't have known who Olivia's father was. Though, she could only imagine what it would be like if Olivia was in fact Andy's. She tried to imagine how they would have gotten through the pregnancy, hoping that Andy would have been as patient with her as Raymond had been. She would have hoped that Andy would have been there for the birth, as Raymond had been refusing to leave her side.

"It's all pointless, you know," she told her daughter. "I can't really compare the two of them."

Olivia's eyes focused on her mother's, completely captivated by the sound of Emily's voice though there was no connection to the words.

"But is it really so wrong of me to want her arms around me instead of your father's? Is it wrong that I want her voice to be the one to tell me that everything is going to be alright?"

Olivia yawned, but offered no other answers, not that Emily had expected any. "When she comes," Emily continued her one sided conversation, "it'll be the first time you'll meet. She's seen pictures, of course, but she couldn't come to see you right after you were born. It's difficult for us to be a part of each other's lives, but she'll be here for the funeral."

Her cell phone rang then, and she maneuvered the baby so that she could answer the phone. She had hardly been able to say hello before Andy's voice was telling her that tickets for the next flight out had already been purchased. She'd be on the plane in fifteen minutes.

"And Miranda?" Emily asked.

"She's coming with me, of course."

Of course? Emily snorted. Miranda would come, 'of course'. She had seen more of Miranda over the last year than she had seen of Andy. Miranda was technically no longer her boss, but they did frequent the same big fashion events of the year. They could have pretended like they didn't know each other, but neither of them had chosen to do that. They talked as if they were old friends, and would even meet up for dinner if time permitted.

"Then, I look forward to seeing you both." She hung up the phone, knowing that her only lifeline would be her daughter resting in her arms. She leaned down, placed a soft kiss on her daughter's forehead, and then when she sat back up, she once again began confessing to her daughter things she could confess to no one else. She told her daughter how she and Andy had met. She told her about how they didn't even know they were meant for each other until after Andy had been married for over a year. She explained that their friendship had grown into love, and how they were now trying to turn love back into friendship. She kept talking even after Olivia fell asleep in her arms, and only stopped when Olivia awoke hungry and in need of a new diaper.

She saw to Olivia's needs, and then spent the rest of her night in the nursery looking down at her baby girl resting happily in her arms. The moment had become the longest uninterrupted time she had spent with her daughter alone, and she wondered why she had previously been so afraid of the small child who stared at her with bright innocent blue eyes.

"You look like a natural." Andy's voice didn't startle her; she had been expecting the intrusion. She had noticed the night turning into day, and had known that the only voice that would break through her haze would be Andy's. "Raymond said you've been holding her all night."

Emily finally took her eyes off of her daughter, but didn't look over at the woman standing inside the doorway. She instead looked out the nearby window, not quite sure what she was supposed to say or do now that reality was once again standing in front of her. So, she said nothing.

Andy closed the open door, and then moved so that she could take a seat on the floor at Emily's feet. Emily looked down at her then, taking note of the wrinkled clothes, the unkempt hair, makeup-less face, and bloodshot eyes. Andy looked like hell, but Emily knew that if she looked in a mirror she would discover that she looked no better.

Andy reached up and rested her right hand on Emily's thigh. Emily looked down at it, immediately noticing that the ring she had given Andy was no longer being worn.

"It's here," Andy said as her free hand reached into her shirt to pull out the ring she wore on a chain around her neck. Emily ran her eyes across Andy's skin, impressed with how perfectly the platinum chain matched the ring. She had had the same jeweler who made the ring, make the necklace, and then sent it off to Andy as a belated Christmas present. As much as she wanted Andy to continue to wear her ring, she knew Miranda wouldn't remain forever silent about her wife wearing another woman's ring. So, the necklace was an exceedingly expensive compromise. Though, she knew Miranda was probably no happier about the necklace than she had been about the ring, but she wasn't truly concerned about making Miranda happy.

She then looked back down at the warm hand resting on her thigh, and instantly decided that she liked the ring better when it was on Andy's finger. Rings weren't meant to be hidden away underneath clothing, and, like any other selfish lover, Emily wanted to be able to look at Andy and instantly see the ring that let everyone know a part of Andy actually did belong to her.

She suddenly had the urge to look down at her own hands, where she knew there would be no rings. Raymond hadn't been conventional enough to give her a ring at their wedding. Instead, he had kept to his own Native traditions and brought an ornate basket filled with blue corn mush to their ceremony. She had known what she was getting into, especially since he had explained when he asked her to marry him that an expensive ring would not make her his wife. She had been able to keep the basket, though, and his mother had given them a hand woven white blanket that Raymond insisted they hang in the nursery.

She looked over at the blanket now, knowing that it was all Raymond needed to represent their union. As long as it remained whole, then their marriage would last. Unlike the ring, it was simple. It couldn't be tucked away and hidden underneath clothing. It didn't mean anything more when placed on one finger rather than another. The blanket should have been enough for her, but it wasn't, because she had willingly chosen the complications entwined with the ring now hanging around Andy's neck.

Emily stood up and moved towards her daughter's crib, finally ready to put Olivia down. Andy moved with her, and placed a brave arm around Emily's waist. They both looked down at the infant who looked confused as why she was no longer in her mother's arms. Emily wanted to pick her child back up, but her arms were fatigued and there was no way she could hold onto her baby girl forever.

"She's beautiful," Andy said as she pulled Emily's body closer to her own. "She looks just like you."

Emily turned so that she was facing the woman holding her. Since London, they had kept a necessary physical distance. Hardly seeing each other helped with that, but when they were in each other's presence they kept everything bizarrely friendly. They didn't invade each other's personal space and did their best to hug without actually touching. They tried so hard to keep apart so that no unintentional fireworks would be set off through the casual touch of their skin.

Emily knew she had told Andy to come, and they both understood she was not asking for her friend to make an appearance. She was asking for her lover, and in the few minutes that they had shared each other's presence, she knew Andy was willing to be all that Emily wanted. Andy would hold her and love her, and help her move past these beginning moments of grief. They were giving each other permission to break down all physical barriers and were willing to put on a show of pyrotechnics neither had experienced since London.

She cupped Andy's face in her hands, and then slowly leaned forward until her lips were pressing softly against Andy's. She stayed there for too short a moment before she pulled back, dropped her hands away from Andy's face, and then stepped out of Andy's hold. "Thank you for coming," she whispered. "I'll love you forever for it." Then, she walked away and left Andy alone with Olivia.

She passed Miranda in the hallway, but said nothing. Instead, she sought out her husband who was sitting on their bed in their bedroom. She closed the bedroom door, and then joined him. She wrapped his arms around her body, buried her face into his shoulder and cried. She was not interested in complications or sharing her grief with a person she only saw when times were either really good or really bad. She wanted to share it with the person who was always there, not caring that this time she would be missing out on the fancy display of pyrotechnics. Fireworks, she reasoned, were too often overrated.


	6. Incineration

**I don't own the Devil Wears Prada**

**A/N: Thanks for all of the reviews!  
**

She couldn't help the awkward feeling beating on the edges of her consciousness as she looked over at the table her wife and her lover were sitting at. She had already thanked her parents for their support, and gave proper recognition to her publishers, and now all she had to do was thank her wife for her unwavering devotion, and then she could leave the stage. This wasn't the first acceptance speech she had given, and most likely wouldn't be her last, but it felt different. She felt as if she should say something different, like she should try and be honest for a change. She was tired of feeling like a fraud accepting an award on some ghost's behalf.

"I'd also like to thank my wife who has been an incredible force of support and love in my life. And I want to say a special thank you to Emily Arrington who has always been my compass, even when I didn't realize I needed one." It wasn't a wild declaration of love, but she knew that it was different enough to call attention to the woman looking back at her as if she had just announced their affair live on television.

She kept her eyes locked with Emily's for just a moment longer before walking off the stage and letting people she didn't know guide her towards the cameras. They took pictures of her with her award, and then they started asking their probing questions about her life. Eventually, she escaped to the women's restroom, and rested her back against the cool surface of the heavy wooden door. She didn't want to go back to her table where her wife would be waiting with questioning eyes and Emily's chair would most likely be empty.

She pushed up off of the door and then stumbled towards the sink. Her hands were shaking, and her stomach felt a little funny. Her speech was not brave, at least not how she had intended it to be. It was too obtuse for anyone to pay close enough attention to. Well, anyone except for her wife and her lover who would lock onto her words and demand answers.

"If you truly want to be left alone, then you should learn to lock the door."

Emily's voice startled her, but her body was already shaking so it made no difference. "Old age is making me forget things," she tried to joke.

"You have lost your mind, haven't you?" Emily slowly walked towards her. "Miranda just gave me a look that would have incinerated a weaker foe."

"I'm sorry," Andy apologized, not yet sure what all exactly she would have to be apologizing for.

Emily sighed, and then rested her weight against the sink Andy was holding onto. "You better damn well be. You're impossible, you do know that?"

Andy met Emily's eyes in the mirror. "Do you want to know what I was thinking?" She chuckled, but didn't give her lover a chance to answer before she said, "I was finally thinking that you deserved more."

Emily raised a questioning eyebrow, but said nothing.

"More of my time, more of my effort, more of my…everything really." She brushed an unsteady hand through her hair. "I should give you more, at least once."

Emily crossed her arms in front of her and released a long sigh. "That's very sentimental of you, Andy, but you've obviously forgotten the memo about how we actually haven't made love in over a year, two nearly. We've somehow managed to piece our friendship back together and you're just stupid enough to want to mangle it all up again."

Andy let go of the sink. "Since when did I have to make love to you for you to be my lover?"

Emily uncurled her arms and then dropped her head into the palms of her hands. "Oh god," she muttered. "You're being terribly unfair."

"I've always been unfair," she closed her eyes, "to you and to my wife."

"Are you going through some sort of early mid-life crisis you'd like to tell me about, because I'll be more than happy to buy you a Maserati and a plane ticket to Las Vegas if it'll end it."

They had stayed apart from each other for so long just so that they could build lives that didn't involve the other. Emily had lived in another country for almost two years, and Andy had finally stopped touring the world so that she could spend time with her wife. They had done everything they thought they needed to do to make their detachment final, and had thus far been doing a wonderful job of fooling themselves with their faulty success.

Emily moved back to New York shortly after her father had died. She did not return to _Runway_, but had instead taken a job as a senior editor for their number one competitor knowing it would have been a bad idea to return to Miranda. She kept her distance, and did everything within her power to maintain a friendship with Andy, and Andy had done the same.

They met up in public places or only when their spouses could also be present. They didn't talk about their past relationship, and Andy finally took off the ring she had worn around her neck like an albatross. There were no lingering touches or longing looks. It was all kept friendly and platonic.

But Andy knew she was right, making love was not what had made them lovers. Their love manifested in thousands of small ways, and no matter how hard they tried they couldn't just turn it off. They couldn't just turn off being immediately at peace in each other's presence. They couldn't just wipe away their bodies' instincts to drift towards each other even when half the world separated them. They couldn't just develop isolated amnesia and forget that when they were together, the world was right and everything felt right. Even now as they were arguing, no uncertainties stood between them.

Without question they were best friends, but they were also lovers and sex had never defined that. Sex had just been added to it when they had become too weak to ignore their physical need for intimacy.

Emily reached out and grabbed onto one of Andy's shaking hands, forcing Andy to open her eyes and look at her. "Andy, don't do this," she pleaded.

Andy wanted to ask, 'do what?' but she already knew 'what'. Emily didn't want their worlds to become shaken again, and honestly Andy didn't want that either. She didn't want to risk claiming Emily's love, but a certain fear had been building inside of her ever since Emily's father's funeral. No, Andy softly chuckled, that wasn't true. The fear had been building ever since the first time they had made love.

She had misunderstood the fear, renamed it, denied it, and regretted it, but the fear always remained. It wasn't fear that Miranda would discover what they had done. It wasn't fear that they had made a grave mistake. It was fear of loss. She was afraid of losing Emily, and she had never let that fear guide her until tonight, because perhaps part of her never actually believed that Emily would ever disappear.

Yet, Emily was standing right next to her holding onto her hand and Andy could feel Emily quite literally slipping through her fingers. Emily had a husband she cared for, if not loved. She had a beautiful daughter she was one hundred percent devoted to. Her career had blossomed and surpassed even Andy's expectations. Somehow, along their winding road, Emily had somehow figured out how to keep their paths intertwined but diverged at the same time.

But Andy didn't want a lover that she was no longer in love with and that was no longer in love with her. What was the point of that? What worth was it to go on being completely addicted to someone she no longer craved?

"I'm tired of watching you slip away." Andy curled her fingers around Emily's.

Emily looked down at their joined hands. "Why won't you let me go?"

She could answer the question with a question, but Andy knew better than to try. Emily wouldn't let her get away with it, and she probably wouldn't stay to finish the conversation either. "As barbaric as this sounds, you're mine."

Emily's eyes narrowed, and her body tensed. "That's it then? You Andy. Me Emily. Let's fuck?" She ripped her hand off of Andy's. "Apparently whatever is left of your mind has become severely degenerated. "

Andy grabbed onto Emily's hips before her lover could complete a dramatic exit. "I know that for a person who makes a living putting words together, I've done a shitty job of explaining anything to you, but I don't know how else to say that I'm certain that we belong to each other."

Emily didn't try to escape, but her body remained stiff in Andy's grip. "We do not belong to each other," she precisely enunciated her words, drawing them out as if she were speaking to a child who understood no English. "You, Andrea Sachs, belong to Miranda Priestly, and I belong to Raymond Aditsan."

Andy tightened her hold, forcing Emily's body closer to hers. "If we belong to them then why are we standing here right now with each other even talking about this?"

"Because," Emily immediately answered, her voice raised, "you just publicly disrespected your wife and threw me head first into a fiery pit."

She ran her speech through her head once more, searching for evidence that would back up Emily's words. "I'm sorry." She dropped her hands away from Emily's body. "But I'm tired of being a fraud. I love Miranda, I do. I always have…" Her voice died when the truth behind her words finally sunk in. She did love her wife, yet she was intent on breaking Miranda's heart.

She swallowed pushing down the lump that had begun forming in her throat. "Martyrdom has never looked good on me," she shamefully declared. "But I always insist on falling on my own damn sword anyway. My marriage to Miranda proves that, doesn't it? And my willingness to be at your beck and call even if you haven't called for me proves it, too." She closed the distance between her and Emily once more. "So, I guess it's only appropriate I'm doing this in a bathroom at an awards ceremony honoring my humanitarianism," she sarcastically noted. "But, to answer your question that I've already fucked up answering, I can't let you go because no matter how hard I try I have always and will always love you more. And no matter what happens in this room between us or what happens after we leave, I can't continue to be with Miranda."

Emily tipped her head back, closed her eyes and began rubbing at them with the forefinger and thumb of her right hand. She gave the impression that she had just developed an unbearable migraine that would soon topple her to the ground. "Andy," she whispered out her anguish.

Andy reached up and stilled Emily's hand. "I'm not asking you for anything."

"No." Emily opened her eyes. "You're just doing what you always do by offering me everything with one hand while taking everything else away with the other." Her body began shaking and Andy wrapped strong arms around her to still her. "And your wife might look at me like she wants to incinerate me, but god damn it, Andy, you actually have the power to do it. Don't you get it? I haven't completely uprooted my life just for fun; I've done it for survival."

Andy thought she had been staying with Miranda for survival. She thought she was making the best decision she could make in a bad situation, always trying to spin a golden blanket out of tattered wool sheared from a sickly sheep infested with fleas and covered in feces. But she could finally admit that she hadn't made her decisions in anyone's best interest but her own. She had stayed with Miranda because it was easier than leaving her, especially when she knew, at least thought she knew that Emily would love her no matter what.

"I'm sorry," Andy apologized again knowing that repeating the words actually didn't make anything easier or anything better.

Emily finally wrapped her arms around Andy. "You talk to me again after you've talked to Miranda," she ordered. "I'll not make you any promises."

"Even that is more than I deserve."

Emily rolled her eyes and then let her head fall onto Andy's shoulder, letting their bodies rest against each other. "I'm not sure you completely understand just how much I hate you sometimes." Her breath brushed against the skin on Andy's neck, making the moment more physically intimate than they had been in almost two years.

"I'm sorry." Andy had nothing else she could say. She was an ass, and had just proven it multiple times.

A few more minutes passed before Emily pushed away from Andy. "I'm leaving," she announced. "I'm going home." She turned to walk away, and this time Andy didn't try and stop her. Instead, she followed her out the door, but was forced to stop when she ran into Emily's back. Emily had come to a sudden halt, and Andy opened her mouth to ask why when she spotted her wife resting casually against the opposite wall waiting.

"I assume the both of you are finally done," Miranda commented pushing away from the wall she had been leaning on.

Emily nodded, and then sidestepped away from Miranda's reach. "I'll… um speak to you later." She walked away then, not bothering to look back.

Andy's palms had begun to sweat. She looked around, trying to figure out if she should run or stay to face her wife, but as she was wasting time trying to make her decision Miranda decided for her and grabbed onto her arm. "You look awful," Miranda said.

Andy let her wife lead her away from the restrooms, still unsure of what she should do or say so she kept silent.

"Emily told me she was leaving to yell at you," Miranda filled the silence between them. "I didn't think she was being entirely serious."

Yell at her? Andy didn't completely understand. Hadn't Miranda just listened in on everything she and Emily had said to each other in the confines of the women's restroom? Wasn't this supposed to be the overplayed scene in which the spouse caught the cheaters cheating?

Miranda stopped and looked at Andy with questioning eyes. "I can assure you, Andrea, that she was much more upset about your speech than I was. I think you have for too long overlooked Emily's contributions to your work, and your recognition of her was overdue."

Her wife could be devious, Andy knew that. Miranda was an expert at sending mixed signals, but Andy got the distinct impression that her wife wasn't being anything but genuine. "Emily got the impression you weren't pleased," Andy finally found her voice.

"I'll admit that I wasn't at first," Miranda casually admitted. "But while Emily had cornered you in the restroom to yell at you, I thought about it and decided she deserved your recognition."

Somehow, without Andy remembering how it happened, she was standing outside leaning against her wife waiting for their limousine. Her award would be sent to her at a later date and time, and there were no more pictures to take and no more questions to answer.

Their limo pulled up, and the door was opened for them. Andy slid into it before Miranda, and once her wife was safely inside and the door was closed, Andy finally realized that Miranda hadn't heard a damn thing that was said between Emily and her in the restroom. There would be no easy outs for her. She'd have to sit her wife down and tell her that she had carried on an affair with someone for almost as long as they had been married. She'd have to be the one to admit it; it couldn't just be something her wife disastrously stumbled upon.

This wasn't a movie. The scene wouldn't end with an amicable divorce then transition into a happily ever after with Emily before everything faded to black. This was her life and it was very real, and all of her troubles were her own damn fault.

"Don't forget about that dinner with Irv tomorrow," Miranda reminded as she yawned. "He keeps reminding me to bring you along." Her hand dropped onto Andy's thigh. "The man is enamored with you."

Andy covered Miranda's hand with her own. "Don't be jealous," she leaned in closer to her wife. "I find his receding hairline very attractive, but you're the one I want."

Miranda smirked. "You've had too much alcohol."

"Maybe I'm just horny," Andy whispered into Miranda's ear and then kissed her wife's neck.

Miranda tilted her head so that Andy could have better access, while she reached out to press the button that would raise the privacy screen. "You're always horny."

"Only with you," Andy said before she captured her wife's lips and repositioned her body so that she was fully facing Miranda. She slid her hand down Miranda's thigh, her fingers bunching up the material of Miranda's dress until she reached the hem, and then she slowly pushed her hand up under it until her fingertips were resting against the apex of her wife's thighs.

She continued kissing her wife, doing her best to infuse every stroke of her tongue and every thrust of her hand with all the love she felt for the woman sitting next to her. When her eyes were closed she didn't imagine Emily sitting in front of her. She wouldn't do either of them that disservice. She kept her wife's name at the forefront of her every move. She was having sex with her wife and would not imagine otherwise, and as Miranda whimpered as her orgasm overtook her, Andy kept her fingers inside of her wife and made sure to tell Miranda just how much she loved her.

She rested her head against her wife's giving them each a chance to calm their breathing. She inhaled Miranda's scent that had filled the backseat and could even smell her own excitement filling the air. It would be easy for her to get lost in the moment, but she stopped herself. Sex with Miranda was easy and felt good. It was a distraction from the constant guilt she felt sitting in her wife's presence. It gave her an outlet when she knew she was on the verge of admitting to something she knew would end her marriage. It made her feel like less of a fraud, but she wouldn't fall into the trap she had just laid for herself, again.

No matter how many times she told Miranda she loved her, and no matter how much caring she put into having sex with her wife, it didn't change the fact that Andy was a fraud. She wasn't in love with her wife, and no matter how hard she tried she couldn't make that love appear.

"Where have you gone?" Miranda ran her hand down Andy's cheek, drawing her away from the intense thoughts that were threatening to drown her.

"I don't know," Andy lied. "Suddenly I just kind of got overwhelmed."

Miranda's hand brushed away Andy's tears, tears she hadn't even realized she had begun to shed. "I love you too, Baby," Miranda kissed the spots Andy's tears had rested, and Andy just cried harder.

Fraud or not, her tears were real and she currently felt like the only one who hadn't escaped incineration.


	7. Doused

Doused

"I have never asked you for your fidelity, Andrea, only for your loyalty." Tears were streaking down her wife's cheeks, and Miranda did not hesitate in reaching out and wiping them away. "And you have given me that."

"How?" Andrea choked on the word, barely able to speak now that she had confessed to Miranda the one thing Miranda honestly had no desire to discuss, but Andrea had insisted. She had guided Miranda to her office, locked the door, and then had confessed to carrying on an affair. She hadn't named names, but Miranda didn't need to be given a name to know who the other woman was.

"How could I not?" Miranda's hands cupped Andrea's face. "For the last six years you have been by my side through everything. You have helped me raise Caroline and Cassidy. You have stayed when others have left."

"But I," Andrea tried to interrupt but Miranda immediately silenced her by placing two fingers against Andrea's lips.

"You are a wild thing, Andrea," Miranda further explained, "and I have never wished to cage you."

Andrea didn't understand, but Miranda didn't expect her to. Andrea had always been just a little bit too self-involved to notice the world outside of her own narrow view. Miranda had accepted that from the very beginning. She knew that Andrea had a deep desire to ingest the world and all the wonders in it. She was driven more often by passion than sense and Miranda suspected that Andrea was just now growing up and into the consequences of choosing a life where taking wild leaps into the unknown was the norm.

Age had tempered Miranda's own wanderlust, but it had never been completely doused. She had found ways to unleash it that didn't include extended love affairs and intricate plotlines. She had matured past these moments of fruitless confession. But Andrea obviously had not.

"I don't understand," Andrea's eyes mimicked the confusion heard in her voice.

Miranda had long ago learned that she could not explain anything to Andrea by uttering the simple word, 'youth'. Andrea never accepted that explanation; she was always so adamant that age had nothing to do with it when really it was more often than not the answer to so many of her questions.

"You don't need to understand." There was no need for explanations. "You are my wife, and I know that you love me." The fact that she knew Andrea's love was also given to someone else she allowed to remain unsaid.

"I do love you." Andrea spoke of her feelings like she still didn't understand them. She couldn't quite comprehend her love, couldn't explain it. Miranda didn't need an explanation, though. She understood Andrea's love. She understood that Andrea's lover filled the empty spaces of passion that she herself could not fill for Andrea.

Love could not just be two people stumbling around in a pheromone induced bliss. If that was enough, then Andrea would have chosen to reveal her secret years ago and Emily wouldn't have chosen to marry. Miranda suspected, however, that neither of them understood this because they had never taken the chance to see if their love could mature.

Tears fell anew from Andrea's big brown eyes. "I can't stay," she whispered.

"Do what you must." Miranda's body stiffened. "But do keep in mind that there is no going back from this. To an extent, I may have understood your behavior, but walking away from our marriage is a whole different matter entirely."

"I don't know what else to do," Andrea confessed.

"Neither do I, Andrea." The words were the first appearance of Miranda's emotion. She had not set out to prove that Andrea's affair left her unaffected, but she refused to yell and scream about something that she had maintained her silence about for longer than even she wanted to admit.

Things were easier if done this way.

"I should leave." Andrea made as if to stand up, but Miranda's hand held her back.

"May I ask," Miranda slid her hand away from Andrea's thigh, "what you expect to happen after you leave?"

"...I don't know," Andrea honestly confessed. "I never even thought I'd get to this moment."

"Yes," Miranda chuckled. "We always dream of moments we never actually want to live in." She straightened her clothes though they were not in need of it. She was in a robe. "Andrea," Miranda whispered, "I suspect it will do no good to tell you this, but the love you have with Emily will burn out."

Andrea's mouth dropped open. "How did you know...?"

Miranda raised her hand silencing Andrea's question. "Let's not get into that. There is no point."

Andrea nodded. "Fair enough."

Maturity, Miranda noted, seemed to finally be making an appearance. She nodded as well, glad that finally something had been settled. She already knew she would be walking away from this conversation uncertain if her wife would be leaving her, but she could not know nor could she control everything. Life had insisted on winning that particular ongoing battle.

"Now," she swallowed, "if you recall, I was terribly in love with the girls' father." She looked into her wife's brown eyes completely unrepentant for what she was going to say. "It would even be fair to say that he was, is the love of my life." Andrea flinched and Miranda was happy for it. "Ours was the everlasting love, but that kind of love doesn't sustain itself. It is the phoenix that continues to die in the flame yet insists on being reborn so that it may die again in the same flame that killed it before."

Andrea opened her mouth to respond but Miranda spoke again before any argument could be made. "You and Emily are no different. If you had been, then your love would have survived past the fucking."

Another flinch and another small victory Miranda could be proud of when she looked back on this moment and tried to prove to herself that she had not been broken, had not yielded her power to someone who could so easily take her heart and forget what it meant to hold it.

"Are you seriously offering me relationship advice?" Andrea closed her eyes and then dropped her head down into hands that looked barely capable of holding the weight.

"Hmm," Miranda stood. "That's one way of looking at it." She leaned over, placed a soft kiss on her wife's forehead and then left. She walked directly to the bedroom and after she stepped inside she softly closed and locked the door. She was uncertain whether Andrea would choose to follow her, but she hoped that her wife would give her the courtesy of space.

Miranda let the door hold her up for a moment. She took one deep breath and then another. Her hands slid down her wooden anchor and eventually she found enough strength to stand on her own. Her eyes scoured the room, noticing each and every one of Andrea's things. She tried to imagine what it would be like if all those things suddenly disappeared. She wondered if the space would really be that much different without Andrea's presence.

An irritating buzzing tore her away from her aimless wondering and her attention turned to Andrea's jacket hanging over the edge of their bed. Miranda went towards the sound and then rummaged through the pockets until she produced Andrea's phone. She looked at the screen not needing to know who would be bold enough to contact Andrea this late.

She chose to answer it not yet sure if she was trying to inflict more torture onto herself or wanted to mete it out. "Hello."

"M-Miranda?" Emily sounded surprised, but Miranda had expected at least that.

"I'm afraid Andrea isn't currently available, Emily. She's downstairs trying to decide whether or not she wants to leave me for you."

Silence. But what response would be good enough?

"I can tell her that you called," Miranda offered, knowing she shouldn't have answered the phone. This wasn't torture, it was mutually assured destruction.

Still silence. Miranda pulled the phone away from her ear to make sure that the call was still connected. It was.

"I'm sorry, Miranda." Emily finally spoke, her voice no longer steady.

"No," Miranda humorlessly chuckled, "I'm not quite sure that you are. The fact that we are now having this discussion means that you are gaining something that I have lost."

"But," Emily cleared her throat obviously pushing away the emotion that was trying to escape, "she hasn't left yet, has she?"

"Oh Emily, she left a long time ago," Miranda confessed. "To act as if that wasn't the case would be..." She didn't have the words anymore. "I'll tell her you called." She ended the call and then threw the phone onto the bed. She wanted to throw it against the wall, wanted to lash out but she couldn't find the energy to break something she would have to have fixed later.

She walked back to the bedroom door and then unlocked it. If Andrea ever decided to leave the office then she would need her phone and would need clothes. It wouldn't be practical to h ave Andrea running around New York city in a robe.

Miranda once again looked at Andrea's belongings littering their bedroom and realized that she loved Andrea too much to be petty. It wasn't worth it. There wasn't enough anger or pettiness in the world to cure her of the ball of pain that was beginning to multiply inside of her.

Her legs gave out and she fell to the floor. She didn't bother to try and catch herself. She let herself entire body fall and let her legs tangle underneath her. She grabbed onto the edges of her robe and bunched the material in her fists not yet ready to give into her weakness. She promised herself that when this day came that she would be prepared for it. She wouldn't crumble. She refused to crumble.

Unfortunately, her brain had made the promise but her heart hadn't gotten the memo. Tears began to streak down her face and there could be no stopping them.

The bedroom door opened and closed, but Miranda didn't bother to look up. She wouldn't. She would not watch Andrea gather her phone and change her clothes so that she could run off to Emily and attempt a new happily ever after.

Strong arms encircled her and she resisted being pulled into them. Andrea wasn't allowed to comfort her when she was also breaking her apart.

"I'm sorry," Andrea whispered as she laid her head against Miranda's back. "I'm so sorry."

Miranda felt warm tears pressing through the thin barrier of her robe. She laughed knowing that they must both look like the fools they were. Both of them wild things that had been caged without consent. Both of them in love just not completely satisfied. Both of them broken with only each other to lean on.

Fools. Hopeless, fools.


	8. Embers Drive

Embers Drive

She awoke happy to be free from the nightmare that had been torturing her sleep. Relief washed through her body and then she released a heavy breath. She looked over at the body laying next to her and suddenly her memory returned to her. Her nightmares had only supplemented the horrid experience she had just gone through with her wife. The only reason why she was still in the bed at all was because Miranda had shown her an act of kindness. But now as she sat awake, Andy wondered if Miranda was in actuality meting out a bit of revenge.

It was unsettling to wake up in the bed she shared with her wife, her wife asleep beside her in a house they had together made a home in such an act of normality when normal had been taken away. There would be no more normal. Andy had made sure of that when she confessed her infidelity to Miranda.

A part of Andy believed that Miranda could have forgiven her. Infidelity wasn't what had shattered their life. The shattering had come when Andy had insisted on admitting that she had been in love with someone else for the majority of their marriage, and no matter how tightly she held onto Miranda as they each cried, nothing could undo what had happened.

Years, Andy mused, it had taken years to build up her life and only a few little words to destroy it. For as many nights as she had stayed up playing out the scene of confession, Andy had never really grasped onto what guilt, anger, and shame would become the morning after the words had been uttered. Her guilt had not eased. She still hated herself and she began to hate herself just that much more because she didn't want to leave the bed she was laying on.

She did not want to leave Miranda.

Miranda had told her that once she left, there would be no coming back. There was no do-over. And what if Miranda had been right? What if Andy's love for Emily would die out when they actually put their love to the harsh test of everyday life. Maybe Andy wouldn't be able to overlook Emily's harsh edges as easily as she had forgiven Miranda's. Maybe Emily wouldn't find Andy's chaotic style of organization as endearing as Miranda had. Maybe there was a limit to love that Andy hadn't been able to conceptualize before.

Or maybe, maybe Miranda knew Andy too well and so knew exactly what to say to make her doubt everything.

But none of that really mattered now. The wall had been built. It didn't matter what Miranda said. It didn't matter what forgiveness could be offered. The wall was between them and not even a raging flood could break it. Not now, not even if Andy leaned across the bed, wrapped Miranda up in her arms, and bathed in the feeling of what love did exist between them.

"I have to leave," Andy told herself, hoping that her words would give her that extra needed push to walk away from the tattering of love she felt pulling her back in.

She threw her legs across the edge of the bed and then forced her body to disregard her emotion and listen to her will. She could not take one last look at her wife, who she was sure was now awake and waiting for some sign as to what was going to happen. She could not fall back; she could only push forward.

Although she was unsure they would, her legs did hold her when she stood up. They managed to carry her to the closet and her arms worked in pulling out clothes. She managed to get dressed and then managed to walk out of the bedroom. Unfortunately, she had not managed to completely avoid looking into Miranda's blue eyes.

Andy walked away, knowing that Miranda was watching her, and although Miranda said nothing, Andy knew that her wife was offering her one more chance to stay and to try and repair what had surely been broken. The offer was tempting, but Andy knew that she had to leave. Otherwise, she risked staying in limbo not knowing what would have ever happened if she decided to seek out a happy ending with the woman who had loved her and had let her go over and over again.

So, Andy walked out of her house and then made her way to Emily's. She didn't think of calling ahead of time and didn't let herself wonder if Emily would even be willing to see her. Her mind was already too full with what had happened between Miranda her that there was no room left for doubt in what might happen with Emily.

When she arrived at Emily's townhouse, Andy didn't know what to think when she saw Emily sitting on the patio with a mug cupped in her hands.

"It's early," she said in greeting as she slowly climbed the stairs.

"Hm," Emily agreed. "I knew that if you were coming then it'd be early."

Andy sat down next to Emily, making an effort to not sit too close. "Where's Raymond?"

"Inside." Emily took a sip from her mug.

"Does he know why you're sitting out here?" Andy asked, wishing she could do something with her hands other than stare at them dangling lifelessly off the edges of her knees.

Emily chuckled. "How could he? I don't even know why I'm sitting here." She laid down her mug on the step below her, and then turned to face Andy.

Andy looked down at Emily's hands. Without the mug to steady them, she noticed that they were shaking. "Are you cold?" She asked as she reached over.

Emily rolled her eyes. "What do you think?" She sarcastically asked. "My husband, my child, my life is waiting for me inside of this house, but for some unthinkable reason I'm sitting out here." Her hands stopped shaking. "I hate you," she whispered.

Andy grinned. "Yeah," she bowed her head and laid it onto Emily's shoulder, "I hate you, too."

"I hate you more," Emily softly replied and then placed a tender kiss atop Andy's forehead.

They both sighed and let their bodies settle against each other. This wasn't a moment of promise but rather one of comfort. Emily could, at any moment, get up and go back inside of her home to her family. Andy could stand up and try to make amends with her wife. She hadn't been gone long enough yet for Miranda to decide that their marriage was well and truly over.

They could...pretend again. They were experts at that. They could convince everyone around them that they had decided that what they had wished for wasn't what they really wanted. They could say that the idea was more fulfilling than the reality.

They could lie, and once again try to believe what they were telling everyone else. But both of them knew that if they didn't at least try to do something with what existed between them, that one day they would again be sitting somewhere leaning against one another with their worlds on the verge of implosion.

"Miranda's convinced that we won't last," Andy confessed.

"Well," Emily cleared her throat, "I'm not sure that she's wrong."

"I'm not sure either."

"Raymond and I could have a very content life together." Emily placed her ahead atop Andy's. "We could have more children, and I know he would never betray me. He would never leave. He will love me until the day he dies...completely. And I could," she tripped over her words, "I could make him h-happy." She blinked away the tears that were forming. "Even if I didn't love him enough."

"I know." Andy didn't stop the tears from falling from her own eyes. Her strength had already been drained from her the night before and she had none left to hold onto.

"Yet still," Emily closed her eyes, "here you are ready for me to turn my back on it all."

Andy nodded the best she could in her current position. "Ready but not asking." She could not ask something of Emily that Emily had never asked of her. Neither of them had ever given ultimatums. It was a courtesy that they had never discussed but had always abided.

Of course, they had pushed each other to limits. They had been petty and demanding when either one of their jealousies raged beyond their control. They had not always been understanding, but they had at least kept this one boundary sacred. Maybe, it was their convoluted attempt at offering an illusion of detachment. It was a way to pretend that there was a piece of them that didn't care and that could never care that the love of their life was sharing someone else's bed.

Perhaps, the reasons went even deeper than that, but none of that mattered now. Ultimatums weren't needed. They never had been.

"So," Emily lifted her head, "you're asking me to leave my husband, you're willing to help me with a broken-hearted little girl, you're ready to do this all?"

Andy lifted her head as well. "I'm ready to try."

Emily shook her head. "God Andrea, I hate you."

Andy leaned forward and kissed Emily softly on the cheek. "I know," she said as she pulled away. "I know."

This thing between them had never been easy. It hadn't started out right or fairly. They had gotten things wrong from the very beginning, and there was no such thing as starting over. Choices had already been made, and lives had already been slowly burned away bit by bit until only burning embers were left.

Finally Emily let her tears fall. "Don't break my heart, Andrea."

Andy wrapped her arms around Emily. "Don't break mine."

They both closed their eyes, knowing that their time alone would soon be coming to an end. Hiding out on Emily's doorstop couldn't last forever. They couldn't sit, hold each other and never let go. Life, no matter how much they wanted it to, didn't work that way.

"No matter what," Andy brushed away Emily's tears, "I'll always love you."

Emily took hold of Andy's hand. "That's always been our problem, hasn't it? We'll always love each other."

"Yeah," Andy agreed. "Always."

If it had its way, their love would always burn their lives down until it was sated. Now, all they had to do was figure out how to control it so that when they gave in, it didn't destroy them like Miranda had predicted it would. They had to make sure that everything they had done, were about to do, would be worth it because love wasn't always enough. Their marriages had taught them at least that.

The End


End file.
